


Got Your Six

by LoveRoundWorld



Category: Resident Evil (Minor), Silent Hill
Genre: Alternate Universe-Human/War, Based on Got Your Six by 5fdp, Cute!Heather, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Funny, Happy Ending, One-Shot, Protective! Pyramid Head, Protective!Heather, Song fic, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveRoundWorld/pseuds/LoveRoundWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alessa used to be head of a crime organization, but someone tried to kill her daughter. Now, she works for the government, imprisoned in a nice comfortable place. But her daughter can't be there. She goes to foster care.<br/>Alessa asks her loyal friend Pyramid Head to protect Heather-her daughter-and he does. While also working for the government as a mercenary-their condition to allowing him to stay close to Heather.<br/>Heather is happy, and loves her protector. Who falls for the innocent, child as she grew older. Neither knows of the others affections.<br/>What happens when the war breaks out from it's shadowy confines and into the light? What happens when, Pyramid Head, in the middle of this, finds that Heather has been kidnapped and has been thrust into that same fight? Can they survive? He's going to make sure that she does, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got Your Six

“She’s all that’s good left in me...You must watch her…kill any evil that may taint her…” the woman’s voice echoes through his head. Always echoes through the memory halls of his mind.

He’s always watched over her. From day one. 

From the day that she was placed into witness protection at six years old. He had been there when her mother had been taken away, willingly talking to the feds. Telling stories that would help them put away even bigger fish. Because bigger fish had tried to hurt her baby. And he was there for the woman’s last conversation with her daughter. 

“You must be good, child. You are what is left of me, all my good. My good girl…” She had stroked her face, as the blonde child’s eyes had welled up in tears. “I have to go now. But if you ever need help, if anyone ever feels they can hurt you, my sweet good girl…Pyramid head will be there to help you…”

And he had been for a long time. 

He was there for the foster parents who beat her…Once. They were never found. Although she had told the Witness Protection Program-that had put her there, they’re lucky they were not the one’s not being found…-that she had been sent to her room, heard a scream, and when she had gone back down, nothing. Except strawberry Jelly all over. It still brings a smile to his face, her innocence. 

He works for the government, on the condition that he’s allowed to watch over her. He provides his expertise, his killing hands, for her protection. He used his dual vision, connected to her, so he could see everything that was happening with her, while he was far away, so he could always come to her, always know when she needed his help. And he’d always be there, in time to either stop what was happening, or kill whatever dared lay hands upon her innocent head. Almost always both. 

And so he has. He grows in his fondness for the girl. No longer is it an oath to a friend to protect her child. Now, he protects something precious to himself. To his heart. She was his sweet little ánthos. The only one that never flinched away from him. Was never scared of him. Which he found both endearing, and good. Because for him to protect her, everyone else must fear him. As they should.

Two and a half years after the…Strawberry jam incident, he finally revealed himself to her. She knew he was there before. He had heard her talk to him at night, called him her protector. But one night, she was crying. And he’d never seen that before. No matter what he did, she would stop. Not much he could do, in the shadows. So he came to her in the park, where she was, alone at night. 

She’d looked up at him, obviously surprised. He had his mask on, he was as he always was…tall, only wearing his ripped up jeans and his mask. He didn’t give much thought to it. But she looked scared of him, she’d scooted back, and her breathing did not slow down from her earlier distress. 

“Be not afraid of me. I am the one who watches over you.” He had said, trying to gain her understanding.

“I…I know…It’s just…You’re mask is scary!” She whimpered out in her child voice. She was so small, at only nine years of age.

He pauses. “My face is much more a horror.”

She scoots back further. “Mask is scary.”

Tentatively, he takes off the mask, and awaits in the most heart pounding moment of his life, as her eyes widen and take in his face. Her jaw is slack, opening to let out a scream, he was sure. 

But instead, she gasped, and grinned, coming up to him in excitement. She hopped up and down in front of him, pointing at his face, which was covered in ghastly scars. “Mister Pyramid, Mister Pyramid! You have a LOT of scars!” She gasps in delight. “I have a scar too!” She says with a huge grin, and-still hopping on one leg-brings up her left leg, bending it at the knee and hiking up her khaki’s above her knee to reveal a long scar across it. “Mommy says-mommy says that scars give character! And tell stories! You must have lots of character, and lots and lots of stories Mister Pyramid! I hope to hear them!” 

Her eyes shone up at him, and from that very moment, she was his sweet little ánthos. From that moment on, he was protecting his most precious person, not a friend’s child. The child that could see his scars-not through them, not ignore them or be repulsed by them, but see them. And see that they made him something other than a monster. Other than…and she was so innocent in them too.  
Even when the war broke out from the shadows and secrecy to the light of day and in the fore front of people’s eyes. He was there to protect her.

Now here he was…with his sweet little ánthos. Captured by the very side he had begun on.

 

 

Beaten and weary, he hung from rafters by his hands. Chains clamped down bitingly into his skin, making them bruise but not bleed. To bleed would give him lubricant to slip out. They weren’t stupid…well, that stupid. They are messing with his charge after all. His friend was in a cage at least, not hung up. He watched a little fondly as they flogged him, and she growled and snarled at them. Like a small, de-clawed kitten. 

When the men’s attention turned to her, he remembers that she may be a small, de-clawed, adorable kitten. But she was an adorable kitten with a hulking, scarred dark beast for a shadow. That backed up her bark. Not that she herself didn’t have her own bite. He remembers fondly a time when she’d bitten a girl who’d not been so kind to her protector. Then the bitch had backhanded her. Now she had no hands to speak of…

One of the men dragged their needle of a sword gratingly across his sweet little ánthos’ cage. The noise scraped screeching across his ears and he watched on, enraged as his little kitten curled to the furthest corner of the cage, still hissing, teeth bared. 

The men laugh at the little blonde, and he growls. It catches their attention, but in the wrong way. 

“We should make an example of one of them. To show the UN we mean business.” Oh, he could handle whatever they threw at h- “And that we don’t care if whoever it is, is innocent. Girl, child, pregnant…” His grin turns sickeningly smug and deranged. 

And Pyramid’s own face drew back in horror and rage. No. No. Not his ánthos. He uses all of his left over strength to pull himself up high, and then drop. The Rafters above him creak and groan, but do not belie their sturdiness. The men pause in their entering of the cage, but soon turn to laughter. 

He starts his ascent again, as they drag her-kicking and biting- out of the cage of blood, and shove her to the ground. Her eyes catch his, and she watches as he drops again, before climbing again. She grabs onto the bars of her previous cage, and does not look away. Does not let go, as they grab at her with grubby, dirty hands that would be soon clenching in rigor mortise, death being the last to ever visit them, and none too kindly. They beat on her, but all the while she watched him. Knowing, he had her back. If she could just…hold on…a little longer, he would save her. He always did.

This time, he climbs higher, ignoring his aching bones in his wrists-the way they almost seem to bend unnaturally when he drops each time. This time he climbs until he reaches the top of the wood above him, higher even, then where his chains connect to the sturdy wood. He does not close his eyes at the height, keeping them firmly on his goal. His ánthos. His girl. And he lets go. 

The chain snaps-it turns out the wood is overly sturdy, and he absently thinks he should check to see the type for something to build with. The chain makes the most breathtaking noise. Or it must, as it silences everything else around him. The men looked up, their eyes widened with fear. Heather, his Heather looked up with pride and awe-not hope, because she knew, she already knew he’d never let anything happen, so there was nothing to hope for, she already had the security of knowing he had her. 

And then his earlier thought was scrapped as she speaks. “You’re all dead…” She says with an innocent smile. “He’s gonna make strawberry jam out of you.” And she’s old enough to know better, she really is. But she knows it makes him smile, that’s why she says it. He may have her physically, but she has his back emotionally. 

His Great Knife is…indisposed at the moment. Too far out of his reach, he saw the bastards take it around the river bend. So he uses his chains-what’s left of them- and turns them on his captors. He whips them out, and literally rips one of the men in half. The girl doesn’t look at the carnage, never does. She watches him only, close enough to not be hit. At his back. 

One of the men, he hadn’t seen who was behind him. He made a grab for the girl, but she kicks him away and shouts “Guardian!” And he whips around, picks the man up in his two hands, and crushes him. The red taints the girl, in her face, and he looks down worriedly. She looks up with wide, blinking eyes. “That’s one way to pop a strawberry…” 

Her blue eyes are shrouded with her brown eyebrows in shock. But she looks up at him trustingly…and that’s all he really cares about. No shred of fear. No shred of disgust. Just light, to his darkness. “I will get you out of here. I’ve got you, ánthos.” 

Her mouth curves in a smile, and she grabs one of his monstrous hands. Except, it was never monstrous to her. To her, it was the giant protective force behind her still innocent blue eyes. And he finds himself smiling back at her. And it always makes his heart flutter-the shriveled thing it was-in wonder and hope when she didn’t flinch away from his grotesque smile, but warmed her own. 

He looks around the carnage and…”strawberry glazed” (Rather, caked on by now, if you know what he means) battlefield around them. They had to get through compound to their right, and once through there, they had to get through another vast open-making them vulnerable to many high up and guerrilla tactic-type attacks-space to the gates outside there. And then through the outer battlefield, and onto their own side. 

He picks up his delicate little ánthos, and starts towards where his Great Knife was taken. They are not met with much resistance. If any at all. Until they reach what he can only think of as a weapons room. And there his sword was, cast off to the side, as if it were too heavy to even put on a table properly. And no pyramid head to be seen. Erm…Mask. Pyramid head mask…helmet…His honorable helmet was nowhere to be seen. 

He picks up the light sword in his unoccupied right hand and shifts his precious cargo in the other, cradling her closer as if she was a small child. He’ll kill the UN for putting her in this position…however she got into this position…how did she get here? 

Shaking his head he picks up his pace, slicing in wide arcs as he downed his foes, escaping his only purpose-other than protecting. The corridor seeped a violent red, tapestries were painted over with dots and sprays…gruesomely covering any ancestry that used to be. No one got past the middle of his sword stretched all the way out. No one could stop him. 

The outside had been dry. For months and months there had been no rain…but now, the scarlet red lips of Death had kissed everywhere, passionate about her art. It was a beautiful dusting of crimson, a spray that the thirsty cobblestones drank in greedily and thankfully. Cobblestones turn to parched dirt, and he soon watered that too. Almost there…

The gates were just in front of him and his girl. After that, they would be in the midst of war, on the cusp of freedom. Just through that gate…It started to close, and he could feel the much needed light being closed away to him, and in a last, exhausted effort, he lept forward, underneath the metal teeth, and put a hand up-his girl now clinging to his neck instead-and let one of its teeth impale his hand. Red rubies dribbled down his arm, like cool sweat adding to his weary appearance.

“Guardian?” She whispers, sweetly in his ear. 

He’s about to step out, to step away and continue on, when she’s wrenched from around his neck, and he is kicked with such a force as to expel his body a great distance from the gate and into the war zone on the other side…on the wrong side. On the outside, where his ánthos was not. 

His heart pitters to a stop, engine run out of oil, lungs without breath, a darkening in his sky. He stops his flying, planting his feet in the ground, and pivoting instantly. He stumbles a little, his limbs not made for agility on a good day when he wasn’t so tired and bloodied already. But he ignores this. He has to save her. Has to get there. His hand grasps his sword desperately, both of his hands clasp it. The pain awakening him enough to give him more energy. 

He sees her now, her small-so small, so fragile, so precious…so breakable….-hands clenched tightly around the wrought iron-iron like his will-and she looks caged again. But she looks determined. Once more, she trusts he will get to her. 

He will not let her go. He won’t let her lose that faith. He will get her out, if it’s the last damned thing he ever does. And then he’ll come back, and protect her in the afterlife. Always. With one fell sweep of his sword, his path is cleared, and he’s there again. 

But what to do? He can’t lift it. Not when she’s holding on so tightly, and could go up with it, into the gears and…no. He can’t charge it. She could be smashed on the other side. He’ll have to pull.

Releasing his sword, he plants his feet. He won’t back down. Placing his hands on either side of the gate, grabbing it, he starts heaving. It was huge, bigger than even him. But he won’t back down. Not ever. Not now. 

Her eyes were light with fire. He heaves. He heaves for her. His muscles pull taught, pain and lethargy trying to slow him down. But he won’t have it. He won’t give in. He’s going to get her out of here. He’s going to get her out.

“Guardian, watch out!” He keeps his eyes on her. 

Even as he feels the small swords and axes bite into his skin, and he pulls, he watches her. Her eyes are wide in a frenzy, her lips caught in a war between horror, concern, and a snarl. Still he pulls. He cannot waist the time it would take to pick up his sword. He cannot waste what little strength he has on himself. He had to get to her. He had to protect her. They did not stop their attack on his back, the cowards. 

He heaved. 

“Guardian, you have to get them off your back!” She screams at him. He ignores her, for the first time in her life. “Guardian, please!” She begs, tears coming to her eyes.

The first he’s seen since that day he revealed himself to her. She was crying. For him. Over him. He had to help this precious ánthos. His precious ánthos. Again, he pulled, invigorated to kill the men that made her cry. 

He watches as she takes a deep breath and smiles waterly up at him. “It’s okay, Guardian.” Her voice is craggily. Low, meant only for him. “Thank you. Thank you so much for protecting me.” She says, and why does she sound like she’s saying goodbye?! “I…” Her eyes glance away before looking up at him. “I love you.” Three words shatter his insides, as she releases the bars with a smile. “Move on, for me” She says, as she’s torn from him. 

His stomach drops, his hands clench-bending the bars, unbeknownst to him-and a great, deep guttural scream left his mouth, from the bowels of his every heartache, but especially this one, singularly most heartbreaking moment of his life. The moment where he either saved her…or lost the love of his soul-for it was not life, it was eternal-forever. And he ripped the gate from the wall, bricks crumbling in his rage and ire. 

How dare she?! How dare she give up? How dare she say to move on? What was there to move on with, if she be not there, with him? If he be not her shadow?! Without light, a shadow becomes just another thing in the darkness of the world. She was his light, a shadow may not be permitted to live, without his light! Without the object of his affections! And these things shall not be allowed to live for making her think he would ever allow her to die! 

He howled harsher than ever, pain laced through everything and at its base, colored with anger. He sees her shocked expression, dumbfounded, unbridled shock. And something low in his gut coils in satisfaction. Good. 

He sweeps his hands, whipping everything away from him-except where she is-as he reaches down and grabs his sword. The crimson haze floods the corners of his eyes as he attacks, and attacks until he is met with something that did not fall at his sword instantly. Something that pushes back. 

Fuck. That. Right. There. He swings again, and again, and again. 

It blocks, it parry’s but it has no room to fight back. Defense only. It stumbles back, burlap sack over his head nailed in and he blindly starts to go for its head. Maybe if he hammered the nails in just a bit more, it would kill it. It blocks with a long handled meat tenderizer with a pointy end, and pushes back. He doesn’t move. It wouldn’t be tenderizing his meat sack. He still needed it to get to his girl. His sweet, stupid, naïve girl. That thought he’d just leave her. 

That final shove of anger, and he shoves his sword through were the anatomy suggests its heart would be. It stops its movement, falling over. Dead. 

Huffing, he turns to the girl, where she is held by many other men. Who drop her arms hastily, and back away, hands up. Too late. He swipes them out of his misery. Nothing touched his ánthos. Nothing. 

“G-Guardian.” She pants, and she’s bleeding in her side, and she has a limp, holding her shoulder, the hand of which was limp by her side. She smiles up at him. 

“ANTHOS!” He yells, barely biting back his total rage. 

“Heh,” She shuffles her feet a little. “Yes?”

“You thought I’d just leave you?!” He grinds out. “Here?” He sweeps out a tired hand. Before she can answer, he hears something slice through the air, and he brings up his sword, and there’s an irritating metallic ring. “I. WAS. TALKING!!” He yells, the force of it allowing him to energetically push his sword up and away, effectively pushing away the stupid fucking meat tenderizer.

“For having a tenderizer, he’s not very tender, is he?” Pyramid glances back at his girl, who wrinkles her nose at her own comment. Or perhaps, just the thing in front of him. He raises an eyebrow. 

“What are you doing girl?” He hisses. “You must go, now.” He looks back at the thing he thought he’d killed. He knew he didn’t have much left in him. But he could make sure this thing didn’t get a hold on his sweet little blossom. “You can’t look back, don’t turn back. You have to go. I’ve got your back.” He says, glancing at her. She hesitates, a look of pure pain crossing her features. “Go.” He says, more gently. 

Her tears return, but she’s never disobeyed him. “Just make sure you come back.” She whispers, reluctant, almost like she knows it’s useless. Like she knows he probably won’t be able to. But she turns, as he turns back to his foe. 

He hacks, and he slices. He can feel his strength dwindling slowly. He won’t last much longer, but at least his little blossom got away…A particularly forceful parry jostles his handle on his sword. He doesn’t let go, but it swings it back, and the time it takes to regain enough energy to bring it up and block or swing again, it’s too long. He sees the other’s weapon coming at him, and he tries. For Heather’s sake, he tries. But he’s too slow… He won’t be able to block it…

Something surprises his opponent behind him, and he pulls the weapon slightly closer to himself, and continues the swing diagonally. It swishes heartbeats in front of Pyramid head, and arches down and behind the nailed thing in front of him. And then he notices who it was that had distracted the thing. 

Heather. Her hands were on a sword, stabbed into the things thigh and her breath was huffing harshly with effort and rage. And the things suddenly fear inspiring weapon is like a missile headed straight for his heart. And that, that was not allowed.

Without his mind even giving orders, no synapses firing, his hand reaches out lightning fast-faster than he’s ever been able to-and grabs the axe, and yanks it back, pulling the things attention back to him. He then sweeps his sword through its stomach. Clean through, to its other side, and then he kicks it’s top half away, releasing his grip on its no-longer fear inducing weapon. It was dead. 

Huffing out panicked breathes, he turns to his long since charge. “What the hell are you still doing here?!” He roars. 

She winces, her own anger washing away, as well as her desperation. Her blue eyes sweep frantically around, searching for an answer. Her eyes land on the gate behind me, and they light up. He sees the exact moment when she realizes her excuse. He sighs inwardly. An excuse made up after the fact…

She grabs his hand and tugs so that he will follow her. When they get there, he sees the war outside, still raging. She points. “I would have died for sure.” She says, her blue eyes turning pleading. 

He groans, not sure he quite believes that. Though, perhaps. She had ended up here. One of the men had dragged her right to that cage. Like it was meant for her. Had this been a kidnapping? He curses the blow to him that had made him lose his second vision connection to the girl. 

Instead of answering, he picks her up, and starts running, sweeping enemies out of their way, her head resting against his shoulder. The little ánthos was also tired. And bleeding too. 

Getting to their side of the field was easy. Finding medical was easy too. 

 

He’s better now. His wounds heal faster than humans would. His ánthos is not better. She’s still in the hospital bed. And he needed to talk with her. 

She’s sitting up, and she looks overly guilty when he comes in to her medical room. As she should be. 

“You thought I’d just leave you there?!” He growls, coming to stand over her. She sits up and swings her legs over the side. 

She doesn’t look at him for a minute, her face covered with her blonde hair. Then she looks up through her bangs at him. “I’d hoped you would…” She says. “I hoped you would leave me, so you’d be safe.” Her voice was wavering. “You’re always protecting me…and…and I just didn’t want you to die because you were trying to save me again…” Her voice was feather light now, he could almost not hear her at all. “Because I love you.” Her head falls forward again, obscured by her hair.

He understood. His insides were breaking again, rebuilding themselves too, but mostly breaking at the desperately small voice she has, and her own fears of losing him. He drops to his knees in front of her, placing his large, safe hands on top of her lap, on top of her hands. “I protect you because I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to suffer, ánthos. And I will always protect you. You can never give up on hope like that again. I almost lost you. And I will not suffer a day without my light, without my little ánthos.” He says, softly. All his care and gentleness-which he had gained only for this girl who he’d always have’s back. All for this little, small innocent girl of his.

Wetness hits his hand and her shoulders shake. “I-I know.” She says. 

“You can’t ever give up hope in me again.” He says.

Her head snaps up. “I-I would never! I knew you’d get to me, even if it killed you! That’s why-!” 

“You are not the only one who loves, ánthos! Of course I’d die for you. You are innocent, and light, and laughter. Everything good in my life. If you died, I would be nothing but negative. Nothing but shrouded in darkness. Because that is what I am, ánthos. I am dark, I belong to darkness. And I shall return to it, if you should ever leave me. I am not worth you sacrificing yourself. I am not good without you. I am nothing but evil, nothing but a killer without-“ His rant, babbling, worried rant is cut short when she launches forward, grasping his right shoulder with one hand and the other on the nape of his neck, pulling him sweetly forward…forward and to her soft, velvety-sweet lips. 

She pulls back, but not away. Just enough to part their lips, and for her head to brush down, a blush evident on her face. She looks back up at him, biting her bottom lip. “I…I’m sorry I let go. I won’t let go. But only if you promise never to tell me to leave you again. No matter the danger. I can’t…I can’t leave you. You have my back…and I’ve got your six too.” She says.

His heart is still stuttering from her gentle-gentle and sweet like her-kiss. He nods his assent, before pulling her gently back to his lips, drawing out a gasp from his ánthos.


End file.
